Roughly, there are 150 million miles of distance on 1 of our journeys around the sun. The first 40 trips around our yellow solar orb in the sky tallies up to 6 billion miles of wear and tear just going around our star, without counting our spin in the galaxy or the expansion in our universe. You could easily double those numbers and it becomes clear why we age. We’re plum wore out. Like a car that has a six-figure mileage, our luster and spunk diminish with time. Gone is the new car smell as we enter our 50’s. Our dead skin cells and plugged up sweat glands permeates a stagnant odor reminiscent of old roadkill cooking in a steel smelter. Luckily, perfumes, deodorants, and those scented pine trees, with the strings you put over your rear-view mirror, can mask this odor effectively. Our mileage also falters due to a worn engine (heart) and plugged filters (lungs). By 60 years of age, the human heart has beat over 2.5 billion times with maybe 100 million more left. Its vessels are caked with sludge that become hard and brittle requiring pouring in chemicals in the gas tank to try and slow this assault. These chemicals corrode the tank (stomach) requiring more concoctions that affect other parts of the vehicle. You are now faced with multiple trips to the diagnostic center and soon you’re in the service bay getting parts ripped out and replaced. They NEVER work as well as OEMs. Soon, your engine, transmission, or rear end will have to be replaced and the only thing on the shelves are used crap from a dead model. Skilled mechanics (doctors) install these components, fire them up and go on vacation. In the process, they dent the hood, scratch the paint, disable the power steering, and disconnect a plug wire so that you run at half power. They then use jumper cables (pacemaker) to keep the heap running. After a few years in the slow lane, you inevitably pull into the junk yard and find a permanent spot to park under a nice shade tree, 6 feet deep.